


Thank You

by amyoatmeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Castiel in the Bunker, Coda, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Destiel Anniversary, Ficlet, Impala Conversations, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, M/M, Mixtape, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), destiel ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyoatmeal/pseuds/amyoatmeal
Summary: THE MIXTAPE.This is more of a 'why' than a 'how', which is just as important.





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just wanted to write a ficlet as a brain cleanser. I don't know how to keep things simple, so this was my best attempt. I also have read a lot of mixtape ficlets that are overly sweet and, while I love fluff sometimes, my personal interpretation given the events of subsequent episodes, is that Cas cherished that mixtape because Dean gave it to him, but he doesn't realize it was meant as a romantic gesture. I love my fluff bittersweet.

_If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. If mountains crumble to the sea, there would still be you and me._

“What’s this?” Cas had asked once while they were cruising down a back country road. 

It was quiet, the middle of the night actually, and they were driving back from a cemetery to their cheap motel. Grave dirt was caked in his hair and under his nails. Sam was sprawled out across the backseat, as much as humanly possible, and he was gone to the world. The only sound was the sharp hiss of the cicadas through the open window and the quiet, slow melody bleeding out of the tape deck. Neither of them had said much in the last half hour so the question served to spark Dean’s brain back to life. 

“You’re joking, right?” He afforded Cas a couple quick glances, but had to keep his eyes on the winding road. The corresponding squint and head tilt said all it needed to. “O-kay. Not joking…” he decided. “It’s Zeppelin. You don’t know Zeppelin?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t say I do. I’m not familiar much with music, unless of course you count the early bone flute of the Neanderthal people.”

“No, Cas, I can’t say I do,” teased Dean with a chuckle. 

“Yes, well, it was ahead of its time.” Dean glanced over to the passenger side again, just enough to see a small smile warming Cas’ lips. “This, though,” continued Cas, nodding to the radio, “I like this very much.” 

Dean smiled easily. “Of course you do. They’re classic.”

“Are they your favorite?” Cas asked it genuinely; he honest to God wanted to know the answer.

Dean mulled it over for a second, but it didn’t really require much thought. He knew the answer as soon as Cas posed the question. “There’s no one better.” Cas asked why and Dean spent the rest of the drive to the motel telling Cas the story about how his parents met, cupid or not.

***

Dean remembered that night for it’s simplicity. The easy flow of conversation. It happened so rarely that every time it did it felt like an oasis in the middle of an unforgiving desert. Dean remembered all of the conversations he and Cas had like that, but for whatever reason that night on the road was one of the fonder ones. He knew Cas remembered that conversation too because ever since then, whenever Zeppelin played over the radio, Cas gave him that same small smile. Hell, Cas probably remembered everything.

Which is exactly how Dean found himself standing outside Cas’ honorary bedroom down the hall. Rapping a knuckle against the solid wood, Dean waited for a response, busying himself with straightening his already straightened clothes. “Come in,” called Cas after a few long moments, so Dean entered. 

Cas was propped up against the headboard with a book splayed in his lap, all attention on Dean. “Hello, Dean.” 

It was weird seeing Cas laying on a bed. He looked too vulnerable and it did everything to remind Dean of Cas laying on the floor of that barn. Black ooze and rot and cracking flesh. Dean had spent the better part of a week after that kicking himself. Cas was laying before him on his deathbed, admitting the very words he couldn’t bear take to the grave, the same words that choked Dean up, and Dean did nothing. Dean said nothing. He told Cas he was family for the hundredth time. And Cas was family, but for a long time, longer than Dean cared to count, Cas had been blurring those lines. And Dean wasn’t exactly sure when, but at some point the feelings Dean had for Cas turned into something else. Something more. Something he doesn’t just say to people. But Cas didn’t die, and that was something Dean had to keep reminding himself. And there was Cas laying on this bed, right here, right now. 

“Heya, Cas,” replied Dean, not knowing what to do with his hands. Eventually, Dean just rested his restless hands on his hips.

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, no, not really. Not unless you want to take a drive with me?”

Cas considered it for a moment. He was still healing, after all, but the more seconds ticked by the more knots twisted in Dean’s stomach at the possibility of a rejection. Cas had kept his distance since that night in the barn. As much as was possible inside an underground bunker, but Dean could tell. Dean was a pro when it came to keeping distance, but he didn’t want anymore distance between them and he didn’t realize how much a rejection would hurt till he asked. 

“That would be nice, I suppose,” Cas agreed easily enough after a minute, “I could use a bit of fresh air.” He laid his book off to the side and got to his feet.

Dean broke out into a smile, visibly relieved. “Well, alright then. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

Dean didn’t have a plan. It wasn’t something he thought of until last night when that memory washed over him while laying in bed. The fact of the matter was that Cas had said those three words and Dean understood exactly what he meant under no uncertain terms. It’s just that Dean tried to practice saying them alone at night, but they never made it past his lips. That wasn’t something he could just say to people. Admitting something like that gave everything bad in his life too much power and there was a hell of a lot of bad these days. But it was selfish not to return the sentiment, especially after Cas had been returned to him time and time again.

He pulled over on the side of the road, a few miles away from the bunker by a quaint farmstand selling fruit pies. There was no real destination, he just wanted an excuse to get Cas away and he never needed a reason for pie. He wanted to tell him those three words back. The longer they sat in the car, though, the more his confidence ebbed. 

“Dean, why are we still here?” Cas finally asked after a few minutes of Dean looking everywhere, but at him.

Forcing himself to lock his gaze with Cas’, it occurred to Dean that he couldn’t do it. No matter how much he wanted to say it. It was entirely selfish on his part and nowhere near fair to Cas, but the risks outweigh the reward and Dean never believed he deserved much to start. He might not be able to say it back, but he wasn’t about to fail twice. 

“Um…” Dean patted down his pockets until he felt the outline of it in his left chest pocket. He snaked his fingers in, pulling out a cassette case with the word ‘CAS’ printed in block letters. “I wanted to give you this.” He offered it out in the space between them on the leather seat.

Cas reached for it and their fingers brushed briefly. The touch sent a tingle up Dean’s arm. “What’s this?” he asked, flipping the plastic case around in his fingers.

“It’s a gift,” replied Dean, with a nervous smile. “Open it.”

Cas eyed Dean skeptically before popping open the case. Inside, of course, was an old cassette tape with a new label that read ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra XX’. All at once, the confused, weary look on Cas’ face softened. He pulled the cassette out just to feel it in his fingers. Dean watched as Cas’ face transformed, his lips tugging into that familiar small smile, eyes creasing in the corners. He looked back up to Dean and uttered a shy, small ‘thank you’. “What’s the occassion?”

“Oh, y’know, no occassion,” he said, as Cas looked over the track listing on the inside case. “Just wanted to say ‘thank you’.” He hoped Cas would catch the intended meaning. He hoped it would be enough to make Cas at least stick around this time. It had to be. Dean didn’t know any other way to do it.

“For what?” asked Cas, looking up from the tape and searching Dean’s eyes.

“For everything, I guess.” But it didn't feel like enough.


End file.
